Sniffle, I hate goodbyes.

But alas, my college career is finally (almost) over.

Everyone comes to Fisher expecting to learn about Shakespeare or chromosomes or the Third Reich, but college has been so much more than that to me. Here are just a few things I learned outside the classroom.

You may ask yourself, “Who is he to tell me about his life?” That’s fine. After all, I’m just a fairly normal guy, so you’re partially right. But you’re also kind of lame to judge me like that, so stop reading my column. I don’t want to give you advice anyway.

Oh good, you made it this far. Thanks for sticking with me. Here’s what I’ve learned so far, in the hopes that it might one day affect some random person who reads this.

As a freshman everyone expects you to be “cool” by being part of the crowd. Screw the crowd. Be yourself and crowds will follow you.

As a sophomore you might want to participate in every extracurricular under the sun. Don’t. Keep it to a minimum, three at most I suggest, and you’ll be able to keep your sanity.

As a junior you may want to graduate with all the seniors. Don’t worry; you’ll make new friends next year. And hey, the graduating seniors you really want to keep in touch with will stay good friends if you both work at it.

As a senior you may not know what to expect. After all, you seniors are the most experienced undergraduate students on campus. There’s nobody to look up to. Good. Just do whatever you want to do, within reason. And sometimes forget about reason. Live a little. That’s what senior year is all about.

So I hope you make friends with the people that used to scare you. I hope you dance shirtless in front of a giant fan at a random night club. (Within reason, ladies). I hope you take a four-day trip to Ireland on your credit card while studying abroad in France. I hope you give back to your community with whatever means you have. I hope you get a stupid haircut and take pictures to show your friends. I hope you visit your friends when they’re far away. I hope you don’t have enough cash for Herb the cab driver. (Sorry, Herb.) I hope you break your toe nail and go out anyway. I hope you almost get in a fight with a guy twice your size, and twice as smelly as you. You get the idea.

It’s been a long, sometimes rough, often awkward series of events. But it was always worth it. As I leave I give you the best of my non-academic knowledge. So please, St. John Fisher. Go live a little.